The hardest part of any trip always seems to be coming home. I talk about it every time. But “hard” may not be the right word. There is an idea that when a route is finished, the trip is done, and coming home is the final stamp on the doneness of that specific journey. We have to return to jobs and bills; the more oppressive parts of life. My recent ride around Lake Superior shed some light onto a new perspective of coming home and I have found myself walking away from the idea that the trip ends when you get home.